


a little taste is what you need

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Drug Use/Addiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: Spoilers for Season 2. Justin adjusts to life with, and around, Clay.





	1. Chapter 1

There are some really good days. Justin gets a job at a local diner; but the Jensens won’t let him pay rent, said it wasn’t necessary, not now he’s technically their son. It’s not true, of course, in the way it is for other people. Justin has a Mom, out there somewhere. He can’t pretend that Lanie is his. Somehow, its easier with Matt, maybe because none of his mom’s boyfriends were anything like him.

When they first learnt Justin had been crashing with them in secret, he’d resented Clay, for being so ungrateful. The guy had no idea how good he had it, in his nice clean house with three fucking Prius-es, and parents who cared enough to sigh and demand things of him, like communication and good grades. But after living with the Jensens for months, he sees that it’s not that easy, even when the family is postcard perfect.

Matt is kind of a hands-off parent. If you wander into the kitchen with something on your mind, he’ll gladly talk. But he’s usually snowed under a mountain of papers to grade in his office, and often zones out in family times, like during a movie or game of Monopoly. Lanie works long hours and is cagey about her job. She’s always mildly confrontational, as though she suspects everyone is lying to her all the time, which as a lawyer is probably a good thing. It doesn’t translate so well at home.

“I feel like she’s fucking interrogating me, all the time,” Clay says one night, kicking his bed in frustration.

The Jensens spare room is Matt’s office, and not really big enough to be converted into any kind of bedroom. They replaced the couch in Clay’s room with another bed, and now its Clay-and-Justin’s room.

Jess even makes them a cheesy placard to commemorate it; three photos of just the two of them, two from school, outside squinting and smiling in the sun, and one from the night of the Spring Fling, before it all went to shit. She decorated it with foam letters spelling out their names, plus a bunch of sequins and stickers of like, rockets and spaceships. Then she threatened death to the one who took it down, so now they’re stuck with it. Neither of them wanted to be the one to wipe the huge, bright grin from Jess’ face. Sherri Holland teases them mercilessly when she catches sight of it, on a trip to the bathroom. (She still prefers to sneak in through the window for some dumb reason.)

“So are you and Sherri…” Justin asks once, to which Clay tells him to mind his own fucking business. Which is just as good as saying ‘yes’ really.

A new girl starts at Lanie’s new firm. Some fresh out of law school 20-something. She comes round for an introductory dinner, since she’ll probably be over a lot, working on Lanie's latest case. When Lanie presents Clay and Justin as ‘my boys’ with no other introduction, it’s nice, despite how strange it still is. Dinner consists of school talk and plans for summer. Justin is careful not to refer to Matt and Lanie by their names, using nothing as a replacement. He’s not ready to call them ‘Mom and Dad’, and doubts he ever will be.

“Does Caroline know, about me? The adoption and everything?” He asks Lanie tentatively, as they’re wrapping up leftovers for the fridge.

“No honey,” she says, giving him a soft, sympathetic look. “I didn’t think it was relevant, necessary, or any of her business. I can tell her if you’d prefer, if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.”

Justin shrugs, not sure how to feel about it. Of course people are going to assume they’re a real, whole family. People at the grocery store, at the mall, when they go out for dinner. Boys don’t go clothes shopping with one of their moms unless they’re brothers. That’s just how it is.

He tells Lanie not to say anything. It was nice, to have a dinner guest that didn’t look at him with pity, or suspicion, like Matt’s mother did. She looked like she was about to accuse him of stealing the silverware every time her mouth opened. People assume all sort of things, all the time. Like that two boys who are now officially brothers, are going to behave in a brotherly way. But they’re not brothers. And that’s the problem.

Zach and Alex and the others rib them a little about their new status, in gentle, friendly sort of way. Asking which one the cool big brother is, and which one is the dork. As luck would have it, Justin is older by two months, and he can admit it’s kind of hilarious that it lined up that way.

“You were always destined to be a nerd, Jensen,” Alex teases, and they all laugh. It’s good, to have a solid, dependable group to rely on.

At school, it’s become easy. There’s a routine. Justin hasn’t changed his name, and with a bunch of others, they’re just two guys in the same year. It’s not awkward or strange.

At home, it’s different. Clay has to share his room, permanently, all his routines disrupted. It takes a while getting used to moving around one another. There are eventual crossovers. Homework and food and other miscellaneous junk on each other's bedside tables. Justin is the type to grab and go, meaning he ends up swamped in one of Clay’s hoodies more often than not. Their heights aren’t so very different, but Justin lost a lot of weight on the streets, and in juvie.

“You look like you’re wearing your boyfriend’s letterman jacket,” Sherri laughs, “Who’s the lucky guy, Foley?”

Justin blushes, and feels like an idiot for it. Now she’ll think he really does have a guy, somewhere. Clothes sharing isn’t the only issue.

“Dude, are you jerking off?” Clay hisses incredulously, in the middle of the night.

“Why, you wanna help?” Justin snarks sarcastically, biting back a moan as his thumb swipes over the head. Fuck, he was so close, and now he can feel Clay seething with hatred on the far side on the room.

After a long silence where Justin slows down so he’s not quite as loud, and Clay pretends he can’t still hear him, Clay snaps.

“Asshole, do it in the shower like everyone else!”

“Shut upppp-” Justin groans, coming all over his fist to the sound of Clay’s annoyed disgust.

Justin would have to be blind not to see the way Clay’s eyes slide over his half-naked body, when he gets out of the shower with only a towel around his waist.

They play it off like it's just guy-stuff. Checking out the competition.

“Your abs make me want to lay down and die,” Clay groans, which is ridiculous, cause Clay’s pasty white body is kind of ripped under all those loose t-shirts.

Justin didn’t have much to do in juvie other than lift, so even though he’s skinny, its all muscle. But since the Jensens started fattening him up with suped up portions, he’s started to put on a healthy bulk. He might not have taken up with the teams at Liberty again, but he runs track, and its enough to clear his mind. The heroin helps with that too. Justin has no idea how he hasn’t been caught yet, but no one seems to suspect he’s been using this whole time. Maybe because he has a regular supply now, and funds from his new job. It all evens out.

Or it would, if it was enough to distract him from thoughts of Jess. He wants her back, even though that would be no good for her, and her parents would never allow it. She’s going steady with Alex, despite their fling, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. Alex is a good guy, the kind of guy Jess needs. Honest, sensitive. Clay is like that too. He’s still nervous as hell around girls, and Justin realises it’s high time he repays the myriad of favours Clay Jensen has done for him.

“I’ll be your wingman!” Justin suggests, on a Saturday when they can hang out at the mall and maybe find real girls of their own. Whatever Clay has going on with Sherri, it's clearly a casual thing.

“Yeah, no thanks,” is Clay’s automatic response.

“Dude, come on,” Justin whines, “I bet I can find you a nice girl. One all into reading, and Star Wars and shit… Or a nice boy into Star Wars?”

Clay spins around on his desk chair and sends him a death glare. “That’s not funny, Justin.”

“Wasn’t trying to be. Look man, when are you going to admit you’re bi?” Justin pokes, at completely the wrong moment it turns out, as Matt lets out a strangled noise of surprise, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee in his hand.

There’s a horrible, lingering silence, before Clay makes a break for it;

“Asshole!” he yells, shimmying out of the window and down onto the lawn before either of them think to stop him.

Matt and Justin spend an awkward afternoon at the house, with Justin mainly in the garden, working through his reading list. When Clay comes home he doesn’t speak to Justin all night.

Clay remains pissed at him for days, especially after he and Matt go for a drive to ‘talk’. He comes home more angry than ever.

“I’m not bi, Justin,” he snarls, “But my dad won’t believe me, he thinks I’m in denial. He wants me to sign up to the Gay-Straight Alliance at school, and he gave me all these leaflets and shit! He’ll probably send me to the new guidance counsellor over this.”

“Shit, dude. Sorry,” Justin winces, but he isn’t, not really. Clay probably is in denial, or else why the fuck would he climb out of the window rather than say 'I'm not bi, Dad, Justin's just being a dick,'?

“Look,” Justin continues, “Maybe this will be a good thing.”

Clay whines. “How?”

“It will be somewhere you can talk to people about your feelings. Like, romantic feelings. With no judgement.”

Clay flops back on his bed, defeated. “I hate you,” he moans, but Justin knows he doesn’t mean it.

They’re left alone for two nights; a Friday and the Saturday. They’re not stupid enough to have a party, but they do invite the others around. Zach, Alex and Jess, Tony, Ryan, Sherri and even Courtney shows up for a little while. They smoke a little weed, which they shouldn’t, and end up shotgunning it, which they really shouldn’t: especially between Justin and Clay. Clay’s mouth is so close, his plump bottom lip wet and tempting. Justin wants to bite and suck on it.

It’s easy, when its just a few of them, and with Courtney, Ryan and Tony bowing out early, their number is small. Alex and Jess want to play spin the bottle, truth or dare edition, and for a while everything is fun and hazy, no different than middle school. Then Justin gets dared to kiss Zach, and he can’t help but moan into it, his eyes half open to where Clay fidgets, shifting uncomfortably in his jeans. Zach is a good kisser, and Justin gets into it.

“That was stupidly hot,” Sherri says after, before putting up her hands. “Sorry, no pressure or whatever. Just letting you know.”

“I know what would be hotter,” Alex mumbles into his beer.

“Really, Alex?” Justin demands, immediately irritated, “Going for jock cliches now? Some girl on girl?”

Alex raises one unimpressed eyebrow. “Please, that’s your pedestrian fantasy. I was thinking more along the lines of a little brotherly love.”

“Oh shit,” says Sherri, nodding vigorously, before she catches herself. “No peer pressure! Who wants more doritos? Justin, you can help me.”

She drags him into the kitchen, fussing with a bowl and the packet to play for time, but Justin sees her eyeing him up, sneaking little sideways looks.

There’s no more kissing after that, though while Jess sings a nursery rhyme standing on her head, Justin can’t help but fantasise what Clay would feel like, under his touch. They’re still high when the others leave, and they deal with the clean up. Justin wants to corner Clay, to ask what he’s thinking, to press him for some answers. To find out if he got hard, watching Justin and Zach kiss.

Clay reaches up to return an unused glass to the cupboard, wobbling a little. Justin catches him round the elbow, slides his hand down Clay’s arm, feels the goosebumps rise in response. Clay’s breath hitches, and Justin can’t help himself. He presses closer, nestling his body into Clay’s back, curling around him, one hand on his waist. Clay’s hand, the one not trembling against the cupboard shelf, scrabbles at the counter- gripping on for dear life.

“Don’t,” he whimpers, but Justin knows that tone of voice. It’s ‘don’t stop’.

He presses a kiss, hot and wet, to Clay’s throat.

“We can’t do this.” Clay reminds him, shaky and miserable. Because he wants it too, just as bad as Justin, and he knows he shouldn't.

“I know,” Justin sighs, sliding his hands off and away, making to step back.

Clay shoots around then, grabbing hold of Justin’s jumper before he can get away entirely. Then they’re kissing, hot and furious, making out like they’ve been doing it forever, Clay sucking on his tongue and moaning like he’s about to come in his pants. Their legs are shaky, barely holding them up as they paw at each other, until Justin just goes for it. Hiking Clay up into the air, so the other boy has to wrap his legs around Justin's waist, and carrying him to slide onto the empty sideboard.

They’re necking properly then, with open mouths and lots of tongue, Justin kissing all down Clay’s lovely throat. Sucking the skin there until it blooms red under his touch. Clay’s hands are running through his hair, scratching at his scalp, tugging hard on the strands of his curly hair. It looks better since he’s grown it out of his juvie close-crop.

Justin rubs up against him, grinding on Clay as best he can with the mis-matched alignment, Clay tightening his thighs around him with a high pitched moan. He’s so hard beneath Justin’s touch, both of them so distracted and turned on, that neither of them notices when Jess returns to the kitchen for her bag, which has fallen under the table.

She stares, mouth and eyes wide open, before quietly and quickly ducking beneath the table to snatch her purse and run back out.

Justin rubs his hand against the hot line of Clay’s erection, swallowing his moans with more kisses, before squeezing both of Clay’s soft hips in his hands. Clay hitches his legs higher around his back, pressing his groin against Justin’s stomach, rubbing and thrusting until he comes with a loud groan, panting heavily. Coming in his jeans helplessly, too desperate for it to stop himself.

Justin shoves a hand down his own jeans, squeezing his dick tight at the base, so he doesn’t do the same. Clay is squirming, uncomfortable, his cheeks flushing red, embarrassed.

“That was so fucking hot,” Justin reassures him, sneaking a soft kiss.

“Yeah?” Clay asks, doubtfully.

“Yeah,” Justin repeats, tugging him closer by the belt loops for a real, deep kiss. “You wanna take this upstairs, little brother?”

“That’s so wrong,” Clay whimpers, biting at his bottom lip and looking sexy as fuck, though he doesn’t know it.

“I know,” Justin huffs out a laugh, taking Clay gently by the hand.

They make their way upstairs together, gripping hands tightly all the while, exchanging smiles. If they don’t do this now, they never will, and Justin wants so badly for this not to be over. He wants this one thing, all his own. Clay pulls him down on top of him, laying back on his bed as they make out, slow and sensual, slick and hot, sliding off their clothes piece by piece.

Outside, Jess watches with hesitant fascination through the window, biting her lip as Justin presses Clay down and out of sight.

“What took you so long?” says Alex, as she gets back into the car.

“Couldn’t find it at first,” she lies, and pecks him on the cheek. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I do more? I feel like I should do more.


	2. Chapter 2

“So…” says Justin in the morning. “Is this gonna be weird, or…?”

Justin asks because he wakes up to Clay lying, turned toward him, staring at Justin with wide eyes. Like he’s considering running to the bathroom to have a private freak out, but isn’t sure he’ll get away with it. At Justin’s words, Clay smiles a little, perhaps because he assumed Justin would be the one to have a gay panic and lash out. Of the two, he’s the one with the asshole macho backstory, after all. Justin merely grins, cheeky and satisfied.

“Should I be worried Sherri’s gonna come after me, for stealing her man?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Clay moans, smacking Justin with his plump pillow, but his smile widens, until Justin leans down to kiss it away.

He slides on top of Clay with the ease of practice, despite this being only their second attempt. Justin knows how to move, how to make things good for the girls he’s been with. He knows exactly what he’s doing, in theory, though there’s some parts he’s more unfamiliar with.

Kissing is easy, slippery and hot, and Clay is so up for it, his hard-on rubbing against Justin’s stomach, slick and wet. Justin kinda wants to suck on it. He’s only ever done that once before, when he was desperate for heroin and totally out of cash, and his ex-dealer suggested another form of payment. It was disgusting and it made him feel gross, like a worthless whore, but mainly because he knew it was slippery slope to much worse. Justin made himself a promise that he would never do that again, no matter what. Justin lasted all those months until Clay found him, but if he hadn’t, Justin didn’t know how long it would have realistically taken, for that promise to be broken. Until he was turning tricks on the regular like every other desperate skank.

But it’s different with Clay, than it had been with that anonymous guy. Justin’s not strung out, shaking and completely jonesing for H. Clay is gentle, kind and sweet. He can be a dick, like any teen, but he’s not malicious. Not cruel, selfish or determined to always take whatever he can get. Justin’s kind of in awe of him. This neurotic introvert, compassionate enough to take in a fuck up like Justin, despite the huge range of consequences it could lead to for his family. Clay’s willing to risk everything for the people he cares about, he always has been. After all the casual cruelty and neglect Justin has dealt with, dealt out, it’s kinda incredibly sexy.

He sucks a series of hickies down Clay’s chest, making his way down seductively. When he reaches Clay’s navel, Justin licks his lips before biting down on the edge of it with a teasing nip. Clay lets out an obscene moan, clenching Justin’s curls in his ragged fist. But when Justin works up the courage to shimmy further down his body, Clay quickly pulls him back up by the shoulder with clawed fingers.

“No,” he pants, “I don’t want- that.”

Justin sits up immediately, worried.

“Really?” he asks, surprised and flustered, bright red, “Sorry- I thought-”

His stomach sinks, but before he can skitter away, Clay is pulling him back down into another kiss, moaning into his mouth.

“This is enough,” Clay says softly, running his soft hands though Justin’s hair. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Justin agrees, “Yeah, course.”

Justin settles between his open thighs, as Clay slides his hands underneath his arms and hooks them up over his shoulders. And Justin gladly sinks back down into Clay’s embrace, just as if he’s always belonged there.

***

After that, it goes a little something like this.

Clay will drive them to school. They share some lessons, but Justin is mostly playing catch-up, so they make eyes at each other in the library or when they meet in the halls. A smirk here, a bitten lip there. Clay thinks he’s bring all coy, bashful and sweet, but Justin sees the hunger there. When they do share class, Clay does shit like twirling his pencil in his mouth, lowkey sucking off the eraser at the end, getting Justin hot under the collar. He wants to slam Clay into the nearest locker and kiss the shit out of him, but he never does.

Other classes are boring but necessary, and though he whiles away physics dreaming about Clay’s ass in those delicious jeans, Justin knuckles down and works his own ass off, for the most part. Before it’s time to go home, they often hang out with Alex and Jess, sometimes Sherri, Zach and Scott. Tony isn’t usually around, always working on his car to get it pretty again. Justin can’t say he’s sorry for that. Tony might be going steady with Caleb, but Justin sees the way he still looks at Clay. Like he always has: like Clay hung the moon, and Tony’s the luckiest man in the world to see it rise every night.

Justin asked Clay about it once. If Tony just wasn’t his type, or if they’d ever had a thing, maybe when Justin was gone. Clay just laughed, telling him how Tony’s too mature for high school boys- Tony’s only into older guys. Justin thinks Clay really believes it, and he’s too much of a fucking coward to contradict him. Tony had his chance, when they were both single, and Clay really needed someone. Justin isn’t going to push them together, not now he’s the one that needs Clay. On the drive home they flirt like crazy, even pulling over sometimes to make out, depending on where they've been hanging out and how far away from the house it is.

Justin spent years in this town, ignoring Clay. And now he’s all Justin can think about. Justin wasted all that time being a star jock, asshole boyfriend to chicks that deserved better, when he could have been shagging Clay for years. It’s unbelievably bittersweet to only have this now, when they’re finally not free to do it. Justin happily signed away his mother’s rights, not knowing that in doing so, he was signing away his own right to kiss and touch and fuck Clay.

Because that’s a thing they do now. After working up to it all day, with the stares across classrooms, and putting in face time with their friends. And it’s magnificent. Clay didn’t want to wait, mumbling something about missed chances with Skye, getting Justin’s fingers slippery with lube. Justin’s done anal with girls before, so it wasn’t all that much different on his end, except for Clay’s reaction. Girls took a while to get into it, but from the very first time Clay was just _gone_.

Moaning more convincingly than any porno Justin’s ever watched, Clay rode him hard, sinking onto his dick like he had a craving for it. Clay's hips were stuttering strangely at first until Justin gripped hold of them. Fucking into Clay confidently, while he taught Clay how to roll them.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Clay squeaked, trailing off with a guttural groan.

“Yeah?” Justin asked, still guiding Clay’s hips with a confident grip.

“Fuck yeahhh,” Clay moaned, before coming all over Justin’s stomach.

It was awkward, the first time they had dinner with Lanie and Matt after they’d fucked for real. Clay kept his head down, ghost-quiet, mumbling into his chin with one-word answers. Then Justin carefully slid out one leg, nudging Clay’s leg with his own foot. Gently, slowly, he slid their calves together. Clay blinked up at him, cheeks going rosy, but not bright enough to be noticeable if you weren’t looking for it.

Clay shot him a secretive smile, and then asked his dad a question about cars. Lanie looked between them with a pleased grin, as though she was proud of Justin for being the one to bring Clay out of his shell. Justin hid his wince behind his glass of orange juice, wondering how she’d react if she’d known exactly how he was doing it.

He wasn’t sure just what the hell would happen if they ever found out. But its good, so damn good, and he’s not willing to give it up. Not yet.  
  
“You seem happy,” says Jess one afternoon, when they share the same free period.

“Um, yeah.” Justin nods, “I guess I am.”  
  
“Good.” Jess nods decisively, so damn strong, that’s she’s willingly capable of being pleased that he’s in a better place, despite everything he put her through.

Justin marvels at it. The depth of the kindness inside of her.

How could he ever have been fooled by Bryce's shallow oaths of ‘brotherhood’? Bryce, who only ever wants people dependant on him, so that they can't cope without his charity. Feeding and clothing a desperate kid doesn’t mean jack if you use it to feed your own ego, while you belittle and manipulate them with it later, guilt tripping them into heinous acts. Bryce held his goodwill over guys like Justin and Monty as a guillotine, ready to drop the moment they stepped out of line. But anyone who asks you to behave so dishonourably, who disregards other people in that way, isn’t worthy of being considered a brother in the first place.

He just wishes he’d known that sooner.

***

“My name is Justin and I’m an addict,” says Justin, the words like ash in his mouth.

“Hello, Justin,” the rumble of voices replies.

“H is my poison,” he admits. Present tense, though that’s how most people speak here, whether or not they’re truly in recovery.

“Oxy if I can’t get it. I used to take the piss, when they talked about weed being a gateway drug, but I guess they were right, huh?”

Sunken eyes and sallow faces stare back at him, hollowed out of any real hope. Justin swallows thickly. He might be on the same junk as them, but he’s not one of these people. He’s just not. He still has dreams, and a chance at achieving them. Their souls have already shrivelled up and withered away. They're walking husks, empty caskets of people. A faded negative of a photograph never taken. They're not real the way Clay is real. The way Justin still has a chance of being real someday.

“I was on the streets for a while. H was easier than facing all the shit I was responsible for. Admitting what I’d done to the person I loved. My mom is an addict too, and she’s in deep. Her asshole boyfriend was gonna kill me one of these days so I took off with his stacks and never looked back. Not till my friends came and found me. I was an asshole, and they still saved me. Got me clean.”

Justin’s eyes find Clay at the back the hall, leaning against the open doorway curiously. He’s never been early to collect Justin before.

“Clay hid me in his house. His parents didn’t even know. He and the others skipped school in shifts to sit with me while I was shaking through the withdrawl,” Justin admits, “Got me sick buckets and tissues and juice, blankets to keep warm even though I was sweating like a pig.”

Justin clears his throat, eyes stinging. A pit has opened in his stomach, like a black hole sucking him down from inside out. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the lie.

“It’s because of them I’m in recovery now.” Justin trembles, “Clay gave me a home. After all the shit I put him though in school, he told his parents to adopt me. He’s the reason I have a home. A family. People who feed me, make sure my clothes are clean. That I'm safe. I never knew how important that was until someone was giving it to me, no questions asked. They ask me about my day and listen to the answer. All this time, I didn’t even know how much I was hurting, how much pain I was in, until they took it away.”

Around the room, he sees people nodding, as though he’s said something profoundly relateable. Maybe he has. The people who have managed to make it here tend to be the ones who have support systems of their own.

“And I’m so grateful for that. Every day.” Justin near whispers, deeply ashamed of himself for being too weak to kick it, despite all the safety he now has. Furiously, he scrubs away a single tear.

“That’s why its so hard to admit…” Justin trails off, finding Clay’s eyes again, widening with disbelief. Justin wants to be strong enough to admit it. To admit that he needs more help. That he’s not been able to stay clean. But already he can see the disappointment gathering there in Clay’s lovely eyes, and he just _can’t._ Justin’s simply not strong enough to risk losing this thing between them, to let Clay down again.

“...That I still like, have urges. Dark moments where I’m desperate for another hit. Where I think to myself, one hit won’t hurt. But I know that’s a lie, because it will. It always does.”

More nodding from strangers with sympathetic eyes, aware of all his failings, because they have the same ones.

“But I can’t do that to Clay,” Justin whispers hoarsely, licking his dry lips, guilt-ridden and contrite. But not enough to stem the lies dripping from his mouth. “My friend. My brother.”

Clay’s eyes are the only ones that matter, shining bright and proud and so blissfully trusting that it takes every inch of Justin’s self-control not to break down sobbing right there in front of them all.


	3. Chapter 3

Justin doesn’t have the luxury of waking up beside Clay every single day. They get to snuggle into each other’s arms for as long as they dare, but of course they can’t sleep beside each other every night, despite the lock on Clay’s door. It would be suspicious if the bedsheets on Justin’s bed weren’t mussed, or dirtied up at the same rate as Clay’s.

Most people aren’t lucky enough to cohabit with their partners until college or after, but Justin’s enjoying the honeymoon period of their trail run. They get dressed together, frequently sharing clothes and showers and kisses as part of their morning routine, depending on whether or not Matt and Lanie are home.

Every evening they get to say goodnight and stay together, even if it’s not in the same bed. Justin learns to appreciate Clay’s snuffling noises, the way he snores only if he has a blocked nose, the little keening whimpers he makes if he’s coming in his sleep. Somehow, it's all equally charming to Justin.

Though Justin suspects it won’t be too pleasant if their sexual relationship fizzles out quickly like a wet firework, or worse, explodes in a fiery hailstorm of accusation and blame. It’s an important consideration, knowing how often and how badly teenage relationships fall apart in awful ways. As far as Justin can tell, high school is 80% bullshit and drama, and 20% genuine education. But that doesn’t stop him falling, fast and hard, despite every argument against it. He’s always been a passionate guy, and Clay is his new addiction.

It’s a cliche to say they fuck like rabbits, but it’s true. They're horny teenage boys, without much of a social life. They have literally nothing better to do than fuck, and even if they did, they'd probably blow that off in favour of fucking anyway. Because Justin's had a lot of sex in his life; some of it meaningless, some of it special, but fucking Clay Jensen? Is honestly some of the best sex he's ever had in his life. And the more they do it, the better it gets. They learn each other's bodies, the best spots to make each other moan hard and come fast, or drag out the pleasure and keep it rolling on.

They soon run out of Clay’s supply of rubbers, which is a shame, because the awesome ridged ones have him moaning like Justin’s dick transports him to other galaxies. Justin can’t afford to buy them any more until he saves up, declines Clay’s suggestion that he get more himself. Justin should be able to provide something to help them hook up; Clay’s already sharing his car and room and whole fucking family with Justin. But until Justin can afford it, regular ones do the basic job, just fine.

“It’s not the expensive condoms I’m into,” Clay promises, kissing him deep and hard, expertly sucking on Justin’s tongue until the older boy is forced to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t want to lose himself in making out, before they reach the main event. Justin mouths at Clay’s skin, tasting traces of come along with sweat, until Clay growls and manhandles him, pulling Justin down until their chests touch, securing his hold with thighs tight around Justin's waist.

“Fuck me harder, big brother,” Clay orders arrogant and imperious, until he breaks character with a giggle, and Justin is helpless to do anything but obey.

Even when he’s already just come, Justin is still desperate for more, though his cock is almost chafing from overuse. He drives into Clay with punishing thrusts. Aiming for that bundle of nerves which makes Clay squeal and clench his hole down hard on Justin’s dick, every damn time. Justin works his hips punishingly, digging his bony fingers into Clay’s beautifully soft, sweat-slick skin. They only stop when they’re exhausted and covered in filth: lube and sweat and come, and Justin’s soft, abused cock is threatening to slip out of Clay’s sloppy hole.

If only Clay’s attention and kisses were enough to stop Justin craving harder drugs. If only Clay wasn’t so goddamn easy to love, then Justin wouldn’t feel the slow, soul-crushing guilt of letting him down, eating him up from the inside. Justin flippantly tries to tell himself he can get clean without help, that he can stop again at any time. That telling Clay the truth would be useless anyway: not worth the hassle and disappointment. Not when Justin’s going to be clean again soon anyway.

Justin does his best to wean himself off slow, self-regulating, using in smaller and smaller amounts. But dealing with reality without a filter in place, is so harsh and raw. Without a constant, steady supply, the pain comes rushing back, all the guilt and the fear. Although he tries to tell his paranoid brain he’s not poisonous, or worthless, it’s hard actually believing it, deep down. But Justin perseveres. Not because he really wants to, or finds it simple and comfortable to do so. But because he has to, for Clay.

Clay’s ridiculously beautiful, his lovely dark hair glossy in the sun, mysteriously inky in the dark, bright eyes always so bold and soulful. But that’s not the reason Justin cares so much. Clay’s so introverted, and under confident, despite being the most honest, hardcore person Justin knows. He took a beating from Bryce to get his confession, never once backing down, even as he was hacking up blood. Clay’s willing to own his shit, and literally take a bullet for people he doesn’t even like, if it means saving those worthy of it. His honest, anxious eyes, so prone to self-doubt, are perhaps the loveliest thing Justin has ever known.

Justin never expected to feel this way about anyone, let alone another guy. It’s been quite a curve, learning to accept the depth of his own feelings. But Clay is worth it. Worth the risk, and worth getting clean for.

If only he could do it alone.

***

In the end, he cracks and tells Sherri the truth. Because she forces him into it. Her former roommate shared a lot of traits with Justin, apparently, and she sees through his bullshit.

“So, how long have you been back on the heroin?” she asks bluntly.

She quickly shoves her bag down by his feet, and drops down beside him on the bleachers, one sunny afternoon when Justin is taking a breather from running, to gulp water and feel sorry for himself. Hiding from cops didn’t do shit for his stamina, because on the streets, the lack of nutritional food outweighed the benefits of constant running.

“I don’t know what you’re-” he attempts, but she stems him with a firm hand in his face.

“Cut the shit,” she snaps, “We might not be close, Foley, but you came through for Jess when she needed you, and I respect that. So quit lying to my face when I’m trying to help you, okay?”

Justin gulps, his face hot, stomach dropping down to lie somewhere by his knees.

“You can’t tell Clay,” he whispers immediately, eyes stinging, “I never meant- I can’t let him down again. Please, Sherri. I'm trying to stop- Just promise me you won’t tell him.”

“Oh, honey,” she clucks, reaching out a hand, to squeeze him one of his bony shoulders. “How do you see this going if I don’t?”

Justin hands begin to shake with the effort of holding back his tears. Abruptly, he lurches up from his seat, stumbling back rapidly, in a bid to escape.

“Justin!” Sherri calls, but it’s too late by then, because he’s already running.

His heart beats wildly as he pounds concrete, the slapping of the soles of his shoes a gallows drum beat, sounding out the countdown to his doom.

 _Clay won’t forgive me,_ he thinks, partly terrified but mostly furious with himself for jeopardizing this one good thing. If only he wasn’t so weak. Justin’s been arrogant enough to deny himself the help that was right fucking there for him to take, if only he would admit he needed it by reaching out for it. And now it’s too late. He’ll reach out, and his hand will close on empty air.

***

He runs all the way home, without stopping. It’s weird to think of the Jensen’s warm, cosy house as home, yet it is. He immediately takes note of the two Priuses, Matt's and Clay’s, side by side in the drive.

He’s not surprised to find Clay sitting outside on the porch steps, quietly miserable.

“Sherri called,” Clay whispers, obviously hurt but valiantly trying not to show it. “Justin, is there anything I need to know?”

Justin glances up at the house swiftly, not seeing Matt anywhere nearby, and deeming it worth the risk. Lightning fast, he leans down to plant a kiss on Clay’s soft, surprised lips, savouring the feeling in case it is the last time.

Clay lets out an involuntary, shocked little moan, before remembering where they are and quickly pulling back.

“Justin, my dad’s-” he whispers, quietly frightened, almost furious because of it.

Frustrated, Justin tugs on his own hair, yanking at his curls harshly. “I know, okay? Fuck, you don’t have to remind me why we can’t do this here.”

Clay looks at him through hooded eyes, his dark lashes throwing seductive shadows on his pale cheeks in the light twilight of early summer.

“So let’s go somewhere else,” he suggests with a carefully nonchalant hug.

“What, now?” Justin blurts out before he can stop himself, too surprised by the suggestion to do anything else. “Like, for a drive to talk or…?”

Clay shrugs again, a hint of smile in the corner of his mouth. “I was thinking more like somewhere we can hang out, where no one knows us, what are to each other? For milkshakes?”

Justin, confused but unwilling to toss aside the olive branch, nods vigorously. Neither of them have treated this thing between them as a public date kind of thing. They were just fucking. Brothers-with-benefits. Weren’t they?

“Sure,” he says, as though he isn’t eager as hell to go, “Let me just shower and change. Meet you here in fifteen?”

Clay nods, motioning for Justin to hurry, so he does, scurrying up the stairs, his heart stuttering a tattoo against his rib cage. Justin showers as rapidly as possible, trusting Clay to make their excuses to Matt. Then he rushes to the closet in the hope of finding something decent to wear, for his first official date with the boy who is his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> It was my great-grandma's funeral on Thurs 24th, that's why the latest update was slow. I've been dealing with my grief and it has not been easy. Writing has been more cathartic than I expected. Thanks to everyone who has commented! It's super encouraging to know you're out there reading xx


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